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Hands"You have such wonderful hands, you should play piano."
Her hands are not those of a musician, they are of an artist. Those longs fingers are meant to hold pens, not pluck strings. Fingertips that are meant to be covered in ink, and be hitting keys with letters and numbers, not to be holding down strings.
The pen starts as scribbles on paper; the blue ink is left on the wrong side of the red margin. She writes with a purpose, not to be praised. She doesn't want people she knows to read her pieces most of the time anyways. The words flow faster than her long fingers can carry the pen, resulting in awful handwriting, with loops where there should be none. She writes of finding the courage to speak what she writes, and feeling the wrong emotions at the completely wrong time.
The words start out small and neat, written in hopes of having the right flow. They take over her and penmanship starts to matter as much as time. She writes as quickly as she can, though these words will never truly
New KidWe always leave out the new shy kid
Whether we mean to or not
Is another question
The lonely new kid sits all alone
In a corner of his
The new kid has no one to talk to and is
Too quiet to ask for anyone's help
Even though he might
Need it the most.
The new kid is quiet, so silent, can't hear him breathe
Or maybe he's not really there in the classroom
Standing beside me like it's nothing
Maybe he's only in my mind.
BittersweetI see a face emerge from the mists of the lost
And then I begin to wonder how I went wrong.
How could I have ever loved someone as sweet as you
When all you really did was push me away and make me feel blue?
I feel as faint as a ghost stuck inside of my life
I want to throw it all away with one slice of a knife.
My vision is becoming blurry from the sight
I want to scream a pitiful fright.
I want to taste you just one more
And then I'd slide onto the blood stained floor.
I can't let you go without reminding
What a beautiful song you can sing.
Sing our song, just one more time
Then you can lose me in the pantomime.
This is my last and final goodbye
Goodbye to you and now...
Kindly keel over and DIE.
A pitying smile.
A toss of golden locks and a trickle of laughter.
They tease me, disgust me, draw me in, conquer me. Every time I see that face, everything stops but me and her,
Everyone that knows her says she's beautiful, smart, maybe a little stuck up, but only in good fun.
She's a good girl, they say. She wouldn't know someone like you,
and she doesn't need to.
She's too god for you, they say. And she is. She's too good for someone like me. But I can't just pretend she doesn't exist either.
A halloween dance. I'm the Joker, and she's just a sweet fairy - the only girl at the dance besides me,
not dressed as a whore.
And yes, you read correctly - other than me. That's what makes this so much more difficult - She doesn't like girls. I do, but that doesn't make any difference if she doesn't.
A member of the choir, her voice is sweet and painfully beautiful on those high notes, just as mine is husky but clear on the
Who am I ?who am i?
I'm the darkness lurking behind the shadows, feeding on your deepest insecurities.
I'm the creaking floor boards under your feet, forcing you to double take your surroundings.
I'm the heavy breathing on the other end of the line, that makes you dismember the phone into pieces when im gone.
I'm the blood pouring from your wrist, telling you just one more cut and you'll be fine.
I'm the wind whistling in your ear calling your name, hello hello, but you never answer.
I'm the knife you pick up and put down, for fear that death is worse then breathing.
I'm the disease that blackens your body, forcing your brain to swell with thoughts of fungus.
I'm the neuse swaying from the tree, screaming, play with me, play with me.
I'm the relfection in the mirror , staring back at you with saddened eyes.
I'm your worst nightmare, but when you scream to wake up, you're still living it.
who am i?
I A M Y O U
Too Much Pain To Deal WithI was okay all day long, but then it came to a certain point where I GAVE IN
I GAVE INTO THE MADNESS
THE DESPAIR AND
All the pain anyone has ever caused me had finally eserted me for THE NEXT GIRL
WHO CAN'T STAND UP
WHO DOESN'T CARE
WHO WANTS TO DIE
The tears can't stop no mtter how hard I might push them back DAY AFTER DAY
THE PAIN OF MY HEART
IS BECOMING FAR
I want to cry into the night and beg for my life to be simple just ONCE MORE
I TAKE THE BLADE OVER
MY FLESH AGAIN
All of my cries have been silenced by people who said they cared but they LEFT ME
BEHIND TO DEAL WITH IT ALL AND NO THERE'S
NO ONE LEFT TO CATCH ME WHEN
The thoughts of you are tormenting me as I cry ino the soggy pillow NIGHT AFTER
NIGHT I DREAM THAT SOMEDAY THAT WILL
BE ME YOU HOLD CLOSE WHEN
Putting Her DownGiving up slowly on myself ..when all my sense of who I am disappearing from my mind. I lose control of my every touch towards my life. Every thought is over thought concerning all my actions. Did I do something right or did I do something wrong again. Heading near my lover brings sharp pains all over my body. Like my loved ones are striking me with blades of hate. I take hold of the wall but I just lose my grasp and fall down unable to get up. I become helpless; they bring out there guns and shoot me in the heart until my heart is in pieces. Everything hurts if something doesn't hurt...it soon will now my blood runs cold from all the pain. The world around me becomes a blur. I soon see that I'm a mere ghost now. Nobody can ever see me again, everybody will think she was a mess and needed to die.
The Night Before ChristmasT'was the night before Christmas, and torture abound,
Not a one knows the day, not man nor hound.
The children were hung in the dungeon with care,
In hopes that the undertaker soon would be there.
The infants were nestled all snug in their coffins,
While visions of carnage danced in their noggins.
And she with her dagger, and he with his blade,
Had just settled the score, both to rest had been laid.
When out on the terrace there arose such a wail,
He sprang from the dead to see what caused the gale.
Away to the slaughterhouse he flew like lightning,
Tore open the window, his excitement heightening.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen blood,
Gave the tension of battle to below in the mud.
When, what to his rolled-back eyes should appear,
But a flaming carriage, and eight skeletonized hare.
With a rotting old driver, so horrid and evil,
He knew in a moment it must be the devil.
More rapid than death his bunnies they came,
And he snarled, and screamed, and called them by name.
Stuck The car sputtered and shook as it came to an almost silent stop. The engine had gone silent as the horn beeped loudly through the dark night. The orange gas light blinked mockingly at the woman behind the wheel. It was making fun of her; she knew it was making fun of her. Grabbing the black cellular phone on the passenger seat, she looked at it with full intention of calling somebody to come help her.
“Oh, what the hell?!”
The “no service” sign was mocking her at the same exact time. The horn beeped loudly as she slammed her head against it once again. The day was out to get her in general. She had arrived at all her classes late, and her son was sick with the flu. The babysitter was able to watch him as she went to her late night classes. Giving a heavy sigh, she lifted her head off the wheel to look out the window. Drops of water pooled on the windshield as rain started to fall in a pitter-patter pattern. She didn’t quite understand the message th
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More